


yellow.

by honeycoffin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, mentions of vomiting (bc hanahaki)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-02 16:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17267702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycoffin/pseuds/honeycoffin
Summary: "Since that night, they continue to plague him. Kei thinks back to the legends he remembers overhearing as a child about this disease. Hanahaki, the kids would call it. You throw up flower petals because you want to give someone all of your love and, well, they don’t fucking want it."





	1. you know i love you so.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year! I made a resolution to finish my giant folder of fic wips and be more active here in the tsukyam tag. I've always wanted to write something based off the song yellow by coldplay, and i chose hanahaki because yellow roses mean friendship. i'm breaking my own heart here... so anyway here is this, i'll be sure to stay on top of it now that i've graduated my first bit of college and have free time again! any suggestions/reviews/tips are much appreciated. let the Tsuffering begin.

_Look at the stars,  
and how they shine for you;  
And all the things you do,  
and they were all.._  
  
He feels something stuck in his throat. He is violently shaken from a dreamless sleep, coughing and sputtering, trying to scream but nothing comes out.  
  
Nothing, except a single rose petal.  
  
_Yellow.  
  
#  
  
_Since that night, they continue to plague him. Kei thinks back to the legends he remembers overhearing as a child about this disease. Hanahaki, the kids would call it. You throw up flower petals because you want to give someone all of your love and, well, they don’t fucking want it.  
  
With each passing day, his eyes no longer sting with unshed tears. Kei hides the petals as they come, one by one, on an infrequent and sporadic schedule. He’s taken to carrying napkins in his uniform pockets, claiming to those who shoot inquisitive glances that he is simply trying to not get anyone else sick. Because that would be disgusting.  
  
Just like him.  
  
#  
  
_I came along,  
I wrote a song for you.  
And all the things you do,  
And it was called yellow.  
  
_They’re seated together on the courtyard’s grass. Himself, Tadashi, and … Yachi. Kei sits with his knees pulled tight to his chest, choosing to balance his bento on them. _But theirs._ Their knees touch.  
It’s sickening, it’s as if even the most gentle brush of their legs makes the same deafening screech of nails on a chalkboard. He looks away. He coughs.  
  
Tadashi and Yachi quiet their casual banter to watch Kei from the corner of their eyes. They glance toward each other, the same concern bouncing between them.  
  
“Ask him what’s wrong.” Her eyes say. “Okay,” Tadashi’s returns. _  
  
_“Tsukki...” He hears the distress in that single word. It wedges itself under his skin and Kei thinks it feels exactly like the thorns that prod his stomach lining. Little teasing needles, their malice but a daunting wave of unease.  
  
“Yamaguchi,” he starts. A rose bud crawls it’s way up his esophagus as the word rolls off his tongue. He swallows it down thickly.  
  
“Tsukki, are you okay? I’m starting to get worried. You’ve been, um, short with us,” He makes invisible lines between his body and _hers._ “The team. Me. Tsukki, I can’t help but ask… are you sick?”  
  
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”  
  
He sighs.  
  
“Im fine. I think it’s just allergies.”  
  
I’m fine? What a fucking lie.  
  
“Okay, Tsukki. Yachi and I are gonna head out. Text me later.”  
  
Kei hums at their backs.  
  
#  


It’s been six months. Six whole months that Yachi accepted Tadashi’s confession. It’s been five months since their first kiss, which Yachi initiated as a spur of the moment surprise, all shaky with nerves and self doubt.  
  
Kei watched on as it was returned with equal caution.  
  
That was the night of the first petal. As hard as it is to remember, the date is now a mark. One that’s brandished itself through his throat, onto his neck, seeping and oozing with venom.  
  
He lies awake, eyes unfocused on the ceiling. He is terrified of closing his eyes. Kei admits, he’s scared shitless. Not knowing when a petal is going to climb up, up, up his throat and assault his tastebuds with the remnants of his own blood and bile.  
  
His phone feels like a brick on his chest. The sudden vibration sends a jolt through his sternum, and he hesitates to pick it up.  
  
He hopes it’s Tadashi. He hopes it’s his own version of reality, the timeline he wishes they were in.  
  
**Tadashi [1 / 1] 02:34 AM  
“Kei. I made a mistake. It’s not her, and it never was.”**  
  
**Tadashi [ 1 / 1] 02:35 AM  
“It’s you.”**  


When he musters the strength to turn the phone up, it’s from someone absolutely annoying. He can’t decide what’s worse, Tadashi not confessing his love, or this;  
  
**Kuroo-san [ 1 / 1 ] 02:34 AM  
“Heyyyy ;) ** **U up? Hit that mf like button!!!”  
  
Kuroo-san [ 1 / 1 ] 02:35 AM  
“But on a serious note, how’re u doing tsukki?”**


	2. what a thing to have done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooo here it is!! my first multi-chapter fic! short, but im still feeling out the chapter length and progression and such. im happy with it! im already working through chapter 3 which will be longer and more detailed. also kuroo will be in it and he is best goofy boy. thank you for reading! also not beta read we make typos like men

He counts to ten, takes a deep breath, and, for whatever godforsaken reason, types out a reply.  
  
**RE:** **Kuroo-san [ 1 / 1 ] 02:** **48** **AM  
“** **The only thing I’m hitting is my phone’s power button.”**

 

#  
  
The days pass by in a blur, fog a hazy yellow. It swirls into Kei’s ears and slinks into his sinus cavities, making a home in the hollows of his bones. The weight of it is migraine-inducing.   
  
“Tsukki, do you have a cold? You keep rubbing at your cheeks and your eyes.” Tadashi speaks between red lips bitten by white teeth. Nervous habit. Kei sighs and turns to face the window. “Maybe.” He removes the hands from the bridge of his nose, opting to rest his chin on them. His elbows ache from their position on the desk surface, which goes ignored. From his seat, he spots trees shedding their leaves, resting upon wilting grass in contrasts of brown and green.  
  
“Take better care of yourself! Come to mine after school, Tsukki? My mom is making dinner tonight.”  
Tadashi _knows_ how much Kei loves his mom’s food. How could he not know? Tadashi knows Kei’s favorite everything, which is equal parts endearing and life-ruining.  
  
Of all the dinosaurs and science documentaries and cake, still, his favorite thing __is Tadashi.  
  
As he thinks of all of this, looking out their classroom window, he coughs. He heaves. Kei tastes blood. He can’t breathe, and gasps as quietly as possible in vain attempts to keep his composure. He feels the stares on his back, heavy like a brick. He slides out from his desk, chair legs squeaking against linoleum, and runs.   
  
Runs away from the worried voices of his classmates, Tadashi included, and carelessly rounds the nearest corner to the restroom.   
  
Behind locked doors, he reaches in his mouth and pulls out a full rose, thorns pricking his tongue. Kei gags when the stem is pulled from his throat.  
  
He looks in the mirror, panting for air in a cold sweat, and hates what looks back at him. What greets him is a disgrace. A disgrace who, for the longest time, ignored his feelings; Who was too prideful and too scared to let himself feel something and fall in love.  
  
Now he just falls to the bathroom floor.  


He plays “he loves me, he loves me not” and picks away at the petals.  
  
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me,  
  
**He loves me not.**  
  
He spits into the sink and adjusts his uniform shirt.  
  
He counts to three. He unlocks the door, and leaves the bathroom.

 

#  
  
  
The table they sit at is sweetly decorated, all fabric napkins and candle sticks.  
  
“Moooom, you don’t always have to bring out the fancy stuff for when Tsukki comes over!” Tadashi groans, picking at the slight fray on his placemat. His mother’s voice comes excitedly as she’s setting the rest of the serveware on the table. “Oh,  nonsense! You know we love having Kei-kun over!”   
  
Their banter is easy, Kei answering in small sentences and hums, and nods in response to the questions Mrs. Yamaguchi asks him; _ “How is your brother doing? Oh, wow! Did you ace that test like Tadashi did? You look pale, dear, you boys need to get outside more!”  _ Tadashi snickers at how awkward and flustered Kei gets when he’s shoved into the spotlight, but speaks in agreement when his mother praises Kei.  
  
“Dear, how is Yachi-chan doing?” Tadashi’s reply comes effortlessly. “She’s great! She aced this exam she was fretting about, the one I told you about last week. Oh, and she’s setting up some practice matches for the team, Kiyoko-san is showing her the ropes!”  
  
“Did your date go well, son?” His father speaks up, grinning with eyes creasing. Tadashi flushes and rubs at the back of his head, but nods. “Yeah, the movie was really funny. She- We. We had a good time.”  
  
Kei’s  eyes widen. Tadashi didn’t tell him about any dates. ‘Why would he?’ he thinks, as his heart sinks low into his stomach. Sometimes it slips his mind that there are things that Tadashi doesn’t tell him about. He doesn’t have to.  Tadashi tells him about the cute dogs he sees when hes out and about. He tells Kei about the dreams he has, and the nightmares too. Tadashi tells Kei just about everything,  everything but her. A gift and a curse. A masochist  of sorts , for he yearns to hear the things that hurt him most.  
  
Nothing could hurt quite as much as a thorn stuck in his tongue, right?  Curiosity kills the cat, though.   
  
Kei’s shoulders slump as he puts a spoon full of curry in his mouth, painfully listening to every single word of the conversation. He is suddenly aware of his teeth meeting when he chews, that he is breathing, that he is blinking. The feeling of his clothes against his skin makes him uncomfortable.  
  
He flinches when he feels Tadashi knock their knees together under the table.  
  
He  spits a pretty yellow petal into his napkin.


End file.
